


stay

by tastelessirondad



Series: whumptober 2019 [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Explicit Language, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark acting as Peter Parker’s parental figure, Whumptober 2019, Worried Tony Stark, yes the title is a rihanna song stop judging me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastelessirondad/pseuds/tastelessirondad
Summary: whumptober day seven: isolation





	stay

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ
> 
> hi friends. one thing before we get started. This work is rated mature and tagged with graphic descriptions of violence because of it mentions and somewhat graphically describes suicidal thoughts and a suicide attempt. The character in this work is in a desperate situation and promotes the idea of suicide as the only option. It is not the only option. It also labels a suicide attempt as embarrassing, because that is what the character feels. Struggling does not make you weak, and you should not be ashamed of how you feel. If this kind of thing triggers you or if you have struggled in the past, please do not read this installment, or read it with a trusted adult. You are not alone. The National Suicide Hotline is 1-800-273-8255
> 
> on that note, thank you for following this disaster of a journey so far, and I hope you enjoy! 😘

37 days.

They had taken him 37 days ago.

Peter hasn’t seen anyone in 37 days.

The room was dark. There was nothing to see, and nothing to do. Every few hours someone slid food and water into a slot by the door. At least, Peter thought it was someone. There was no voice, or even a hand, that could Peter could attach to a human being.

One minute Tony was smiling at him, proud of him for how he handled the case. The next, Peter was alone.

Isolated.

It had been over a month, and Peter hasn’t had any human contact.

He wanted May, he wanted MJ and Ned, and most of all, Peter wanted Tony. Peter wasn’t a clingy person, and usually tried to distance himself from the billionaire in fear of being a burden. But Tony, being Iron Man and fucking Tony Stark for God’s sake, made him feel safe in a different way than he felt with May, or his friends.

Peter had cried a lot when he first got here. He had begged, and pleaded the open air to let him out, to let him go home.

Nobody ever answered.

The tears would fall, wet and hard, and sometimes they didn’t stop. He would just cry and cry until he passed out from exhaustion.

See, Peter wasn’t an incredibly emotional person either. He had learned to be strong for his friends, and really really hated being seen as weak. But honestly, Peter had probably cried more in these last 37 days than he had in his whole life. Complete, and total isolation will do that to you, he guessed.

Now, even as Peter wanted to cry, he couldn’t. He wanted to cry for May, and her horrible cooking and gentle hugs. He wanted to cry for Ned, and their friendly arguments about Star Wars and trips to Delmars. He wanted to cry for MJ, his amazing, beautiful girlfriend and their countless hours spent just enjoying each other’s company. Peter wanted to cry for Tony, his steady hand on his shoulder and gentle encouragements that the teenager never would have expected to come from such an important man.

He tried to let go of his emotions in the only way he knew how, but he couldn’t. Peter was living in a world of constant pain and suffering, and the worst part?

He was all alone.

In 8th grade, Peter remembered reading a story about these two men that argued about which would be worse: the death penalty or solitary confinement. They had placed a bet, and one of them ended up spending 15 years stuck in a room by himself, with little to do, just to prove a point. That man was allowed to back out at any minute, and while he would owe the other man a lot of money, Peter wished he had that option. If Peter had learned anything in these last 37 days, it was that he would choose the death penalty over solitary confinement if he ever had the choice.

The embarrassing truth was, that Peter had tried to end his life multiple times. He had come to terms with the fact that while Tony may be looking for him, the billionaire would probably never find him, and that ending his life was the only way to find peace again.

Because what came after death? If there was an afterlife, would Peter’s adventures as Spider-Man earn him a spot in the good place? Or was it just nothing? Either way, it seemed better than this.

Peter stood up shakily, and went through the same ritual he had for the last few weeks.

He scanned the room for anything he could use, but the room was empty, except for the scratch marks representing the time spent in this hellhole.

He sighed, defeated, and turned to face the hard, vibranium walls. Peter banged his head hard against the wall, _one! two! three! four!_

Countless times, trying to find someway to end the pain. But nothing ever worked. Blood dripped down his forehead, but he felt no different. No traumatic brain injuries sustained, and unfortunately, no life threatening conditions.

Peter plopped back down to the floor, laid his head back against the wall, and fell into the usual nightmare plagued sleep.

* * *

Panicked yelling woke him from his slumber. Peter’s head snapped up in confusion, because there had never been a voice he could hear other than his own.

The blood streamed steadily down his head, front, back, and sides, and Peter groaned. Still? 

He stood up slowly, and tried to get a good idea of what the yelling was about.

“Peter?!” He heard, a familiar voice snapping his mind into reality for the first time in now 38 days.“Peter?! Kid?! Where are you!?”

_ Tony. _

“Here!” He screamed hoarsely, desperate to get the billionaire’s attention. “I’m in here!”

The metal footsteps clanged closer and closer, until the reached the outside of Peter’s door.

“Stand back kid!” Tony yelled.

Peter lept onto the ceiling. The door was blasted open, and for the first time in 38 days, Peter stood face to face with another human being.

_Tony._

Peter dropped off the ceiling and took in the man with wide eyes.

Tony’s face was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot. The bags underneath his eyes were so dark, Peter wondered if he had slept at all since Peter had been taken away. Tony scanned the teenager, looking for injuries, eyes landing on the blood covering his head and neck.

“It’s nothin-“ Peter started to explain, but before he could finish, Tony crushed him in a hug.

“Oh my God kid,” The billionaire said, squeezing the boy tighter and closing his eyes.

Peter melted into the embrace, and he felt what might be tears soaking into his bloody shirt, Tony’s shoulders shaking with raw relief.

Tony pulled away slowly and held the boy at arms length.

“It’s gonna be okay now alright?” He said, rubbing circles into Peter’s shoulder blades with his thumbs. “I’m here now it’s gonna be okay. Let’s get you to a hospital alright?”

Peter started up at the man, big brown eyes glistening with tears he didn’t even know he had left.

“Stay?”

Tony smiled, his eyes still watery, and pulled the boy in for another hug.

“Yeah kid,” He said emotionally. “I’m not going anywhere.” 


End file.
